


Murphy’s Law

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-05
Updated: 2009-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rather nervous Bradley has taken an oblivious Colin on a date, but naturally enough everything that can go wrong does so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murphy’s Law

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Um, well, some snooty French waiters give Bradley hell to the extent that he gets nostalgic for all the centuries of warfare between Britain and France. But of course this doesn’t mean either Bradley or I are actually prejudiced against the lovely French people.
> 
>  **Notes:** This is for **the_muppet** , who wanted more RPF.

♦

Of course it all started going wrong from the moment Bradley absentmindedly rapped on Colin’s hotel room door, and accidentally hit a knuckle against the hard metal edge of the peep hole – he was standing there with his hand up in the air, grimacing at the sudden stab of pain and mouthing _FUCK!_ when Colin opened the door.

‘Oh! Hey. What’s wrong?’

‘I think I’ve got a funny bone in my knuckle. I just hit it.’

‘Isn’t that meant to be your elbow?’

‘Yeah.’ Bradley shook out his hand and tried to re–gather. ‘Um. These are for you.’ And he thrust the six–pack of Guinness cans at Colin.

‘Oh. Thanks.’ He took them, but he didn’t sound thrilled.

Bradley followed him in as Colin went to put them on the shelving unit by the tv. ‘You don’t like Guinness? I thought you Irish boys were weaned on the stuff.’

Colin shrugged apologetically. ‘It’s not the real thing over here. And the cans… there’s no head, and it tastes kinda metallic.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

‘You want one now?’

‘Well, I guess. But the dinner reservation is in –’ Bradley checked his watch – ‘fifteen minutes.’

‘The restaurant will wait. Although –’

Bradley sighed. ‘What?’

‘Well, the cans are chilled. Maybe we should wait till after, let them get to room temperature.’

‘Uh…’ He hadn’t really thought this through, had he? ‘You’re right. That’s just plain wrong. An insult to Irishmen everywhere.’

Colin grinned at him for that.

‘Though – well, I have to admit the thought of Guinness at room temperature during a French summer kinda makes my stomach turn.’

Colin considered him a moment, and then nodded. ‘You’re right.’ He handed Bradley a can, took one for himself. And they hung around, not saying much, struggling through about half a can each. The Guinness wasn’t great. And Bradley was more of a lager man himself anyway.

Eventually Colin took pity on him, and put down his can, grabbed up his hoodie. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get going.’

Bradley dumped the can, and cast another look over Colin’s attire, wondering if he should say anything about its excessive casualness. One of his rumpled checked shirts over a t–shirt, and well–worn jeans. But that was just Colin, wasn’t it? He seemed to only have one suit, and Bradley would bet good money on it not being here with them in France. Bradley was smartly suited up, but Colin seemed blithely unaware of such differences between them. ‘All right.’ Bradley sighed, foreseeing trouble, but not knowing how to head it off.

♦

They walked through the quiet weeknight town, Bradley leading the way to a fancy restaurant that had been highly recommended to him as the best for traditional cuisine and all the necessary fuss regarding cutlery and so on. Colin was happily nattering on about something to do with filming that day, some choice he’d made that the director had pushed him on, some subtle triumph of characterisation they’d created between them – but Bradley was fretting too much to really listen, questioning himself for the thousandth time. _What the fuck do you think you’re doing, James?_

Not paying enough attention, for a start, he concluded, as they walked right past the restaurant door and had to backtrack. Then there was confusion over his reservation, starting with the fact that the way Bradley pronounced _James_ seemed incomprehensible to the French. And the waiters only had a little more English than he had of their language, so his half–irritable half–placating response to their accusation of, ‘You’re late!’ didn’t go across at all well.

Then one of them brought a suit jacket over to Colin, and forced it upon him, begging, ‘ _Please_ , monsieur,’ as if an unsuited man eating dinner was an offence to all of Pierrefonds.

‘Now, look –’ Bradley started, feeling a bit guilty cos he let this problem happen. But, then, what could he have done about it? He supposed he could have loaned Colin one of his own jackets, or borrowed one from someone, but that would have meant starting the evening off by criticising Colin’s dress sense.

‘It’s all right,’ Colin said in his easygoing way, shrugging the thing on. Of course the resulting ensemble looked totally ridiculous, but Colin didn’t seem to care – for an actor he had a surprising lack of vanity about his appearance. The waiters were all too aware of the mismatched results, however, and after a muttered conversation between themselves, had enough mercy to not insist on a tie as well.

Bradley and Colin were shown to a lousy table up the back by the service doors. Bradley shook his head, and indicated the half–full restaurant. He was at least a good enough actor to convey outrage, no matter what the language of his audience. ‘I asked for a _good_ table, a _bon_ table. What about those? Any of them would be better than this.’

‘Reserved, all. For people who are _prompt_ , monsieur.’

Bradley glared, and opened his mouth to launch into a real tirade, but Colin stopped him with a wry smile and his hands held palm–out. ‘You said the food was good here?’

‘Meant to be, yeah.’

‘It’ll taste the same at this table as at any other.’

‘It had better,’ Bradley muttered darkly, before sitting down.

Of course the menu was entirely in French. They puzzled over it for a while, exchanging their scant knowledge and their best guesses. When a waiter finally arrived, Colin gave him his brightest smile – the one Bradley could never resist – and announced, ‘I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.’

 _‘Why?!’_ the waiter demanded, as if this were a great affront to the entire nation of France. His stare shifted from Colin to Bradley in disbelief. ‘Your ami is vegetarian…?’

‘Yes,’ Bradley firmly replied. ‘And he’s perfectly entitled. So take his order.’

Colin just laughed. ‘What would you recommend?’

A sniff. ‘We don’t _do_ vegetarian.’

‘Well, you can just do me a salad to start with, can’t you? And a plate of vegetables for the main? And bread, plenty of bread.’

Another sniff. ‘Oui, monsieur.’

‘Um, the soup,’ said Bradley, and pointed to some kind of steak listed under the mains. ‘And that. Medium.’

‘Medium rare, monsieur.’

 _‘Medium,’_ he insisted.

It was all totally disheartening. He and Colin didn’t talk much. The soup was fine – some kind of hearty thing like minestrone – but Bradley could hardly enjoy it when he had to watch Colin uncomplainingly picking bits of bacon out of his salad, while trying to distract Bradley with more natter about the day’s filming, and a particularly key scene they’d be doing together the following week.

Bradley cheered up a bit when the mains came out. Colin’s vegetables looked relatively appetising and were unadulterated by animal products. And Bradley’s steak was melt–in–the–mouth to–die–for… He actually let his eyes drift shut in the bliss of his first mouthful.

‘Good, huh?’ asked Colin with a delighted little gurgle of a chuckle.

‘God, that is the most _delicious_ thing I’ve _ever_ had in my mouth…’

Colin’s gurgling chuckle turned a bit filthy, as only Colin’s chuckles could.

Bradley went bright red and kept his eyes down, but that didn’t stop him happily dealing with another five mouthfuls of steak. The serving was enormous, too. The evening was starting to look up.

A waiter sauntered over. ‘Is good, monsieur…?’

‘It’s bloody fantastic. Uh, tres bon.’

‘Merci, monsieur.’

‘Best beef I’ve ever had. Very tender.’ He popped in another bite.

‘Oh, it is not beef steak, monsieur… It is cheval. How do you say in anglais? It is _horse_ steak.’

Bradley stopped chewing.

‘The horse, you know?’ And the waiter had the gall to mimic someone riding, reins in hand.

Which was what Colin and he had been doing that very day as Merlin and Arthur. It was one of the aspects of this job that Bradley enjoyed most, probably third behind the sword–fighting and bullying his man servant. He thought of that honey–brown mount of Arthur’s, that he’d become inordinately fond of. Lifted his napkin to his mouth, and surreptitiously got rid of the steak. The waiter sauntered off again in triumph.

Then Bradley summoned all his courage and raised his gaze to see Colin’s reaction. It was one thing making the stupid mistake of eating horse. It was quite another to do so in front of a vegetarian whom one was trying to impress.

Colin looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – he was frozen midway through a horrified, hilarious sort of grimace. ‘Oh, _Brad_ ley…’ He sounded sympathetic, which was far more than could be expected.

Bradley had occasionally had to argue with people who thought that if you ate meat, then you should have no qualms about what kind of meat it was, whether it was offal or dog or whatever. But there were lines, he felt, and one didn’t cross them with comfort. He wondered if there were some vegetables that were beyond the pale for Colin… Well, perhaps it didn’t work that way with salad.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bradley offered.

‘Look,’ said Colin. ‘D’you want to just _go_? We can get a pizza or something. Room service. We could buy some _very_ plain bread and take it back to the hotel.’

‘Dunno if I’m hungry any more.’ He sighed, and didn’t look down at his plate or what was on it. ‘Definitely don’t wanna stay here, though.’

‘Good. They’ve been right bastards.’

Bradley laughed in surprise. ‘Hah! So you do have a mean streak.’

‘Course I do.’

‘I like the French. I’ve loved being here. But right now I think I understand why all those wars started. Hundreds of years of wars between the British and the French with great bloodshed. That seems perfectly reasonable to me.’

Colin nodded, and stood. ‘Come on, then.’ He shrugged off that awful jacket and left it on the chair. Bradley threw some money down on the table – probably too much, but he just wanted to get the hell away from there with no more hassles, no more mangled conversations. And they walked out, shoulder to shoulder. It wasn’t quite on a par with defeating griffins and evil sorcerers, but it would do just fine.

♦

‘Are you still hungry?’ Bradley asked as they walked back up the street.

Colin shrugged as best he could with his hands jammed into his jeans pockets. ‘No, not really. The vegetables were actually rather good.’

Bradley sighed. ‘Good.’

‘D’you wanna just go back to the hotel?’

‘No.’ He thought about why, and he wondered whether he should say anything, he wondered how much Colin already knew or guessed. Probably not a lot, Bradley surmised, casting a glance at his companion’s face. Colin was just being Colin tonight. Bradley’s friend and colleague, his mate. The enigmatic lad from Ireland, who may or may not be completely oblivious. Well… ‘I don’t want –’ Bradley admitted, ‘I don’t want the evening to be over yet.’

‘All right,’ Colin agreed with another easygoing shrug. ‘D’you wanna… I dunno… walk up to the lookout on the other side of the river?’

‘Sure.’ He hadn’t done it before, but the girls and Tony had, and apparently it gave a great view of the castle with the town at its feet and the hills behind it.

They walked along in companionable silence. Loitered on the bridge for a while, watching the water gliding away from them like silk rippling, listening to the flow echoing under the arches below their feet. Then they headed up the short steep hill on the other side, and got to the lookout just as the sun disappeared, and the pinks and yellows in the sky became purples and golds. The castle and the town were still visible in the twilight, but the lights were coming on, like fireflies, like little pinpricks of magic. ‘Wow,’ said Bradley.

‘Yeah,’ Colin agreed. ‘Wow.’

They stood there for a while, shoulder to shoulder, just watching the sky change to dark blue velvet. The first star came out, and Bradley made a wish.

The back of Colin’s hand brushed against his, just casually as if Colin had shifted his weight and accidentally bumped into him. But then Colin murmured, ‘Bradley…?’

‘Mmm?’

A brief silence. Then, ‘Bradley… is this a date?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Is that mmm _yes_?’

Bradley sighed. ‘What it _is_ , is a total fucking disaster. Everything that could have gone wrong, has gone wrong. Except for you,’ he added, lifting his head to look directly into those light blue velvet eyes. ‘You’ve been perfect.’

‘Ah, flattery,’ Colin observed wisely. ‘Are you saying that cos that’s just the sort of thing you’re meant to say on dates?’

Bradley levelled his gaze. He supposed this evening had been a bit over–planned. Maybe he should have just gone with his instincts, gone with the flow. Been something more like himself. But he hadn’t known how else to convey that tonight was meant to be different. ‘You mocking me?’

‘No.’ The innocent face soon collapsed into mischief. ‘Not much.’

‘I’m saying it cos it’s _true_. You’ve been great. You put up with that crap in the restaurant way better than I did. And you even put up with me getting cranky at them. You’ve been the perfect date.’

Colin confessed, ‘I didn’t _know_ it was a date. Was I meant to know?’

‘No, I don’t suppose so.’ He’d deliberately made the invitation as casual as he could, just as if they would eat together, the two of them, as they’d done fifty times before. Bradley hadn’t wanted to talk about the dating side of things or even think about it until he really had to. He’d completely messed it all up, hadn’t he?

‘You should have told me it was a date,’ Colin whispered.

And then suddenly he’d turned and taken a step closer, and his lips were soft on Bradley’s, hovering there as if they’d withdraw at the slightest sign of resistance.

But Bradley couldn’t bear that. He closed his eyes, moaned, and pushed forward, turning the slight brush of contact into the hard press of a kiss. And that was that – for the first time in his life he was kissing a man, he was kissing his friend, he was kissing Colin – and it was fucking wonderful. Sweet and strong at the same time, both clever and naïve. He lifted his hands to cup Colin’s face, to thank him, to treasure him. Colin’s hands slipped within Bradley’s suit jacket and found his waist. Bradley moaned again at this simplest of touches. It was incredible.

The kiss broke at last, and they stood there, forehead to forehead, just being together in the cool night air. ‘Perfect,’ Bradley breathed.

Colin laughed, like silk flowing, like water rippling. Colin was happy.

Bradley’s heart thudded. His eyes were still closed. He confessed, ‘I’ve never… with a man.’

Another laugh, under his breath. ‘Then we’re even, cos I’ve never… with a woman.’

Bradley drew back a little, letting his hands drop to Colin’s shoulders. Looked at his friend. ‘You’re gay?’

‘Yeah.’ Colin frowned. ‘I thought… I thought you knew that.’

‘What, cos I asked you out on a date?’ Bradley shook his head. ‘I figured you probably weren’t quite as clueless as me, that’s all.’

‘But I thought…’ Colin’s frown deepened, and he pulled away. Paced off a short distance, and came back. ‘I thought they’d told you.’

‘Who?’

‘The producers. The four Jays. They said they’d talked with you, and there wouldn’t be any problems.’

Bradley gave an Oscar–worthy performance of confusion and frustration. For a few minutes there, he’d thought everything was starting to go to plan. He should have learned already not to be so optimistic. ‘Of _course_ there wouldn’t be any problems,’ he declared, a bit loudly. ‘I’m not a _complete_ arse.’

‘No one said you were.’

‘So why did I need to be told?’

Colin shrugged.

Something occurred to Bradley. ‘Was that the conversation about how Colin Morgan is _so_ sweet, and _so_ special, and I should treat you nice?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, the specific subject of you being sweet and special while fucking men never came up.’

‘Bradley…’

‘Oh yeah,’ he muttered sarcastically. ‘Sorry, I forgot. I’m meant to be _nice_.’

‘I don’t care whether you’re nice. It’s a bit hypocritical to give me a hard time about fucking men, when that’s what you were hoping to do tonight.’

Bradley glared at him. ‘Oh, that’s very sweet and special on a first date.’

‘You always wait for the second date when it’s a woman?’

That didn’t even merit a reply.

 _‘Look,’_ said Colin with massive irony, ‘I don’t know why you’re so offended about needing to be told, when you’re obviously taking it _so very well_.’

Bradley’s glare intensified. ‘I don’t care about you being _gay_ , for god’s sake. I just don’t like being considered such a neanderthal that I need to be warned!’

‘No one thinks that.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Bradley…’

He stepped closer, furious, jabbing his finger out – and was pleased to see that Colin stood his ground, though his lips thinned and his chin hardened. ‘Have I _ever_ given you reason to think I wouldn’t be nice?’

‘No.’ Colin shrugged. ‘But you can be a bit much sometimes. Sometimes you take things a bit far. I’m guessing they wanted you to go easy on the teasing. About that, at least.’

‘A bit much,’ he muttered. ‘A bit far.’ He turned away, rubbed at his face with both hands. This had gone spectacularly well. Not. ‘All right. I’m sorry. Date’s over. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.’

But Colin just stood there. ‘No.’

‘I’m _sorry_ , all right? I shouldn’t have presumed. But let me walk you back. I, uh… It’s just what you’re meant to do on dates, isn’t it? Not leave you to make your way home alone.’

‘What, even dates with guys?’

‘Dunno. Humour me.’

But Colin still stood there in the dusk, tall and true. ‘Bradley… I don’t want the date to be over yet.’

And Bradley’s heart thudded. _Oh god._ He didn’t think too hard about it – he just went with an instinct so strong as to overpower his sense of self–preservation. ‘It doesn’t have to be over.’

‘The hotel, then.’

‘Yes.’

♦

He got scared again as they walked back into town. _What the **fuck** do you think you’re doing, James?_ He got scared of this enigmatic man walking along beside him, matching him stride for stride. Even though this man was Colin, his friend, his colleague, sweet and special and worthy of niceness. Colin, who was so gay that he’d never even been with a woman. And Bradley so straight that he’d never been with a man before. Did that make this the mismatch from hell? Bradley sighed, but the nervous tension wouldn’t dissipate.

‘Your place or mine?’ Colin asked with a quirk to his mouth as they headed through the lobby towards the lifts.

‘Yours,’ Bradley answered. Some vestigial notion of what a date should be, involving the received wisdom that a girl would always be more comfortable in her own space. Not that Colin was a girl. Far from it. Which meant that Bradley had some new notion that if he had to run away, then leaving Colin’s room would be far easier than throwing Colin out of his own.

Then suddenly they were alone together, with a door locking out the world, the bed waiting there looming large and scary, and Colin standing there also waiting for him, waiting patiently just beyond arm’s reach. But he couldn’t. Bradley couldn’t take that step, lift his hands, lean in to take another kiss. He just couldn’t.

Colin had mercy on him again, and came back towards him, his lips softly alighting on Bradley’s and hovering there. And once again Bradley closed his eyes, moaned, and pushed forward to turn it into a real red–blooded kiss. This time Colin’s hands were bolder, and his arms slid around Bradley’s waist, brought him closer, one hand slipping down a little to mould itself to Bradley’s butt.

Bradley broke away, gasping a little. God, he was _so_ fucking turned on by all this, and he was absolutely certain that Colin knew that, but he still had to ask. Because if Colin was gay then maybe he had certain expectations. Maybe he wouldn’t draw the line anywhere at all. So Bradley looked at his friend, and asked, ‘What are you gonna want?’

Colin’s contented smile turned delighted, and those blue velvet eyes sparkled.

Bradley insisted in a whisper, ‘What are you gonna do to me?’

‘Nothing you don’t want,’ Colin immediately reassured him, absolutely serious in intent even though he was still smiling. Apparently this was just the funniest thing ever.

Bradley growled a warning.

Colin pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, then spelt it out: ‘I won’t fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not if you don’t want me to.’

‘Good. Cos I definitely don’t want that.’ But Bradley, to his horror, found himself adding, ‘Not yet.’

And Colin gurgled one of his delighted chuckles. Oh, he was just loving this. ‘Not yet,’ he echoed in his thickest accent. ‘I promise.’

Despite Colin’s amusement at his expense, Bradley hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t retreated. It was far too nice being here in Colin’s arms. Far too sweet to deny himself, and the fear was still there but starting to fade away. If anything, the fear was adding a delicious frisson to the whole thing. Making it an adventure.

‘But maybe one day…’ Colin dared to suggest, that bold hand of his sliding lower to where Bradley’s butt met the back of his thighs – and despite or because of the fear, pushing Bradley’s horniness all the way up to eleven.

The idea of Colin fucking him had haunted Bradley for a long time now. Bradley was sure he himself didn’t want it, but the notion had niggled away at him regardless. It was almost like when a popular song wouldn’t leave him alone even though he hated it, it was _everywhere_ , and it annoyed the hell out of him – but within a couple of weeks he would realise that actually he loved it, and once he’d surrendered his resistance then it became his absolute favourite, and he listened to it obsessively…

Bradley closed his eyes. Well, even if it would be like that, he still wasn’t ready tonight. He asked, ‘So what are you gonna want to do?’

Colin laughed under his breath. ‘Do you always negotiate who’s doing what to whom before you even get into bed?’

‘No. No.’ Bradley sighed, glanced at his friend before closing his eyes again. ‘With a girl, there are certain expectations, aren’t there? With two guys… Well, I dunno, do I? Who’s on top? Who’s fucking who? Whom. Or isn’t it even like that? I’m probably being a complete idiot, but I don’t have the first idea.’

Colin had mercy on him. He leaned his forehead against Bradley’s, and his arms lifted into a more comforting kind of hug. ‘I wanna get naked with you, Bradley James. I want you in my bed. I wanna kiss you _forever_. I like kissing,’ he added in a by–the–way tone.

‘I like it, too,’ Bradley confessed.

Colin ducked a little to brush his lips against Bradley’s, but then he returned to their forehead–to–forehead discussion. ‘I’d like you to touch me. I wanna feel your hand on my cock and my balls. Do to me what you do to yourself…’ A brief hush, before Colin whispered, ‘Do you think you can do that, Bradley?’

‘Yes,’ he said, feeling like he was falling over the edge into this crazy wild wonderful adventure.

‘That would be more than enough for me. That would be incredible.’

‘Yeah…?’ Could it be that simple? He was scared at the thought of being naked with a man – so completely and utterly naked, body and soul – but it was Colin, wasn’t it? He’d trust Colin Morgan to the ends of the earth and beyond. And the thought of getting his hands on him… yes, that was crazy wild wonderful.

‘And as for you… I could touch you. I could go down on you. You could fuck me. Whatever you want.’

Bradley shivered. He wanted all of that, but… ‘Fair’s fair,’ he said. ‘I can’t ask for more from you than I’m willing to do myself.’

‘Yes, you can. You’re new to this. There are things you won’t be comfortable with yet. And even if you were comfortable, you still might not like doing them.’

‘Things that you’re comfortable with…? Things you like doing?’

‘Yeah.’ Colin huffed a bit wryly. ‘Sorry if you’d rather I was as new to this as you are. But I’m not. I’ve done it all already. And so far I’ve liked _everything_.’

 _God!_ A shiver ran right down his spine. ‘All right. I… I’m…’ Why did Bradley suddenly feel so close to tears? Weird. He forced them back. ‘Sorry. I’m a complete moron. I’ll try to catch up. As quick as you want.’

‘No… No…’ One of Colin’s hands came up to cup the back of Bradley’s head, to stroke his hair. ‘God, you’re amazing, Bradley James. You just take your own time with this. You’re… you’re…’ Colin suddenly lifted his head, forced Bradley to meet his gaze. ‘I want you _so much_. D’you know that? Maybe you never even knew that.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘But you asked me out on a date anyway.’

‘Cos I want _you_.’

Colin took a moment to close his eyes, to take this in, to consider it. ‘And you’re talking about… You’re saying _not yet_ , and you’ll _catch up_. Like this isn’t just for tonight.’

‘We can date,’ Bradley found himself blurting out. ‘We can be together. For as long as you want.’

 _‘Bradley…’_ he whispered fervently, like his name was some kind of magical incantation.

Bradley confessed, ‘I think I’m… I think I’m gonna like this. A lot. I think that’s why I’m… so fucking scared.’

‘Oh _god_ … It’ll be all right. I _promise_.’ And they were kissing with a desperate kind of passion, pushing up close against each other, holding each other tight. And Colin was… Colin was taking care of him. Thanking him. Treasuring him. Making him feel safe.

Finally Colin broke away, his breath panting. ‘I want you. Naked. In my bed. _Now_.’

‘Yes,’ said Bradley.

‘And then I want forever.’

 _‘Yes.’_

And so the adventure began.

♦


End file.
